[Continuing chapter 13]
“I never really wished there were more of us,” Tetsuo said, “until now.”
“I agree,” said Shiro, but he grinned as he spoke. “If this scarface has more than eight or ten men with him, the two of us might be in a bit of trouble.”
“I will be more than content,” Hiroki said, “to find him alone and dead drunk. I want to interrogate him before we kill him.”
They had just passed the Gion shrine, in search of the wine-shop Shiro had said was called Ensei. Katsumi had told him that Nakamura Yutai and his surviving gang had fled to the east; this wasn’t much to go on but it was a start, and matched well enough with what Shiro had learned about Nakamura’s habits.
He had tried to warn Hosokawa Katsunata about his betrayal at the hands of his wakashū lover Togashi, but had been thwarted; Hosokawa was not at home, none of his servants knew when he would be back, and if any knew where he had gone they were not saying. I made the effort, Hiroki thought, and that is sufficient for now. And for all I know, he’s already aware of this. He seems to be ahead of me in knowing everything else.
Hiroki had not felt so utterly out of command of things since the bad days following his wife’s death. There were layers inside layers to this conspiracy — or to these conspiracies, because while it would be convenient to believe that Lady Tomiko’s death was connected with the fighting between the Miyoshi, the Hosokawa, the Yanagimoto and who knew who else, it was equally possible this murder had been a completely isolated event. If the former was the case, then young Hosokawa had to be a suspect; if the latter was true then he couldn’t be, having no reason other than the political to murder a woman who had been a close friend.
He wanted to interrogate Nakamura, he realized, if only because this was a person he knew had committed a cowardly attack and could be punished for it.
“There it is.” Shiro pointed to a cluster of small, ugly buildings set among a copse of still-leafless trees. “Close to all important neighbourhoods.”
“A good place to hide from one’s superior if one is serious about drunkenness,” Tetsuo said. “Or some other form of misbehaviour,” he added with a significant look at Shiro.
“Hey,” said Shiro, blushing. “I would never patronize such an unfashionable place as this.”
“And you’re not going to start now,” Hiroki told him. “I want you outside here, keeping watch to ensure nobody gets out. Tetsuo, you’ll come in with me and act as my blade if I need one.” He sighed, deeply, regretting the hot bath he still hadn’t been able to have. He was stiff and sore, he knew he had a fever coming on from his exposure to the frigid waters of the stream at the foot of Mount Hiei, and on top of that he now stank of wood-smoke. Somebody has to pay for all this, Nakamura, and I’m afraid that in the absence of the truly responsible, it has to be you.
He struggled, but he did manage to dismount without any help. After tying his horse to one of the pathetic trees he pulled free his staff and limped toward the shop’s entrance.
The only person in the shop was the scarface man. He sat on the bench in front of the serving counter, slumped forward and with his head in his hands, while the proprietor alternated between fussing over him and glaring at him as he refilled Nakamura’s cup. The sake was cheap, and smelled appallingly bad even from a distance and over the stink of the burned teashop clinging to Hiroki’s clothes.
The thump of Hiroki’s staff on the shop’s floor brought Nakamura upright with a sodden oath. “Oh,” the man said once his eyes had found focus. “’S you. All I need now.” He shrugged himself up and off the bench, reaching for his sword-hilt as he stood up.
“Hands off that,” Tetsuo told him, “unless you’re anxious to die right away.”
“Please,” the proprietor said, bowing in hurried jerks. “Could you do this outside?”
“In this place, how would anyone know if we took that shit-worm’s head right here?” Tetsuo asked, hand firmly on the hilt of his longsword.
“I’m happy to go outside,” Hiroki said. “The air’s bound to be better out there,”
“You’re no one t’ talk,” Nakamura said. He giggled. “Enjoy the fire?”
Hiroki was fighting the urge to forget about interrogation and simply act, when he heard Shiro’s voice calling from outside. At the same time he heard the rhythmic thump of approaching horses. “Hiroki,” Shiro called, “I think we’ve got trouble.”
Next Characters Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6
Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13
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